


Familiar

by ebbj9891



Series: In Quest Of Something [70]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Biphobia, Bullying, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Gen, Homophobia, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slurs, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebbj9891/pseuds/ebbj9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin has had a rough week. He's been dealing with an intense resurgence of his PTSD that has left him drained and depressed. He's not really ready for the family to visit, but he wouldn't dare turn them away. When they arrive, it soon becomes apparent that Gus has been having a rough week as well, though the reasons why are a mystery.</p><p>The only person that Gus is willing to turn to is Justin. Although Justin wants to help, he feels ill-equipped. After all - he can barely take care of himself, so how can he possibly be there for Gus?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“We don’t have to do this,” Brian says, perhaps for the hundredth time that week. “It’s not too late to make different plans.”

Though they are sitting close together in the living room – Justin in his favourite armchair, Brian on the sofa – Brian’s voice sounds ever so distant. Justin only barely registers what’s been said. Once he struggles through the fog clouding his mind, he glances up at Brian and shakes his head. Perhaps for the thousandth time this week, he says, “It’s fine.”

“It’s been a rough week,” Brian says softly. He leans forward and gazes at Justin with evident concern. “I can book a hotel room for them to stay in. They don’t have to be here with us.”

To say the last week has been ‘rough’ is an understatement. Justin winces as he recalls it: the nightly nightmares, the persistent panic attacks, the somber state of mind that he can’t seem to shake. There’s no real reason for any of it – it’s just arisen from within him, suddenly, and without warning. It’s been a burden to both of them; Brian might deny that, but Justin knows that it weighs on him.

“It’s fine,” he says again. He’s unclear on whether he’s being honest or not, but that doesn’t really matter. What he says next is absolutely true: “I want to see the family. They should be here with us.”

Mel, Linds, J.R. and Gus will be arriving at any moment. It’s the beginning of summer break for the kids; J.R. will be staying for two weeks with Mel and Linds, while Gus will be staying until school starts again. Justin is torn – he can’t wait to see them, but he also feels overwhelmed. He’s not in a good place right now and being around too many people isn’t conducive to healing.

The truth is that there are only two people who _really_ know how to handle him at times like this – Brian and Daphne. The rest of his friends and family try, but they don’t really understand. Sometimes when they try to reach out and help him they end up doing more harm than good. Justin hates himself a little for that, but it is what it is. At times like these he needs the solace that only Brian and Daphne can provide. He needs their understanding. Anything else offered by anyone else either feels like too much or too little.

“You’re sure?”

Brian’s query startles Justin out of his muddied thoughts. He jumps a little and has to gather himself before responding, “I’m sure.”

He’s not, and Brian probably knows that. But Justin can’t take another heaping of self-hatred – he’s been battling with it all week; even a fraction more would surely cripple him. He forces a smile at Brian and shrugs. “Really, it’s fine. It’s better this way.”

Brian continues watching him with that incredibly intense gaze. Fortunately, it’s a good kind of intense – the kind of intense that Justin can deal with, not the kind that feels like a threat. In that gaze, there’s understanding, empathy, and compassion. As Justin gazes back at Brian, he can feel his smile shifting from a falsity into a reality. It flourishes into something totally real when Brian opens his arms and murmurs, “Get over here.”

Justin practically leaps into Brian’s arms. He curls up in them and rests his head on Brian’s shoulder. There’s no safer place than right here.

He only gets to enjoy it for a scarce few moments, though, for there’s suddenly a lot of knocking at the door. Through it, J.R. calls excitedly, “We’re here! We’re here, we’re here, we’re here.”

Justin gets up and heads to open the door. He’s pulled back by Brian, who wraps an arm around him and kisses his cheek.

“You let me know if it’s getting to be too much,” Brian whispers. “Oh, and use the safe word if you want to have a breather.”

Justin snickers and nudges Brian. _“The_ safe word?”

“Gummy bear,” Brian reminds him in a wickedly teasing tone.

“Shut up,” Justin laughs. He shoots a quick (but incredibly grateful) grin Brian’s way. Brian smiles back and they share a quick kiss. Then, since it sounds like J.R. is about to beat the door down, they head over and let the family in.

J.R. rushes in and hugs both of them at once, chirping happily about how excited she is for the next two weeks. Mel and Linds follow, offering hugs and kisses that Justin endures. 

He wishes he could enjoy their offerings of affection, but he’s not in the right frame of mind. The only person he can stand touching at the moment is Brian. It’s made the past week a living hell – he can’t bear to use the subway for fear of being jammed into a crowded compartment; he’s been avoiding the gallery where his latest collection is showing, because half of the staff are incredibly touchy-feely with him; and even walking around the city is troubling, because tourist season is at a high and the city seems full to bursting.

Lastly, Gus comes slinking into the apartment. He shies away from both Justin and Brian and makes his way into the living room, his gaze averted.

Brian throws a worried glance Justin’s way, then asks, “You okay, kiddo?”

“He’s in a mood,” Mel explains quietly.

“Teenager stuff,” Linds adds with a sympathetic smile.

“I have an announcement to make,” Gus says. “This is serious, so listen up.”

Justin glances at Brian, thinking that he might know something about this. Brian merely shrugs; he looks as confused as everybody else does. There’s a prolonged uncomfortable silence as Gus stands there, staring at the floor, trembling slightly. Justin can feel his stomach sinking, although he’s not entirely sure why. 

Finally, Gus raises his head and makes eye contact. Panic flashes through Justin as he realises Gus’ eyes are full of tears.

“Honey,” Linds says, her voice brimming with concern, “What is it?”

J.R. shifts uncomfortably and wraps her arms tight around her waist. Anxiously, she prompts, “Gus?”

Justin links his arm through Brian’s – he needs the support and he senses the feeling is mutual. Together, they wait silently for Gus to make his announcement.

Gus takes a shuddering breath and swallows. It doesn’t seem to do much good – the poor kid still looks deeply distressed. Then, with a wobbly voice, Gus announces, “I’m not ever going back to Toronto. You can’t make me. I’m going to stay here with dads and live with them from now on.”

He blinks and a couple of tears slide down his face. Justin heart breaks at the sight. His first and only instinct is to comfort the kid, so he takes a step towards Gus, but Gus takes a huge step back. As he dissolves into tears, Gus insists, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m never going back there. This is my home now and _nothing_ is going to change my mind about that.”

Then, as he starts to cry harder, Gus turns and bolts down the hallway into his bedroom. The door slams and the lock turns. The loud slam makes Justin flinch. He forces himself to recover quickly and turns to the family, in the hope that somebody will have some answers. But it’s no good – they all look as lost as he feels.


	2. Chapter 2

The bathroom tiles: that’s his limit. Justin is lying on the floor of the bathroom, his back pressed to the cool, smooth tiles, and that’s all he is willing or able to focus on. That’s it.

He despises himself for it. He’s thirty-four years old and yet he’s right back where he was when he was eighteen. How’s that for progress?

Really, if he’s being honest with himself, this feels worse. At least at eighteen, he had the excuse of having recently been bashed. Now he’s sixteen years removed from that event. What the fuck is his excuse now?

Justin links his hands together and settles them on top of his stomach. He breathes in deep, holds it, then exhales slowly. It calms the panic that has been festering within him for the past week. He ought to be out there with Brian, Mel, and Linds, dealing with Gus, or perhaps sitting with J.R. and making sure she’s okay, but he can’t deal with any of them. It’s too fucking much.

Almost as soon as they started discussing what the hell was going on with Gus, Brian and Mel started bitching at each other and throwing nasty accusations back and forth. Their accusatory bitching quickly deteriorated into a full-blown fight, with them yelling and swearing at each other. Justin couldn’t take it. It didn’t go unnoticed; as he stood there, overwhelmed and on the brink of breaking down, J.R. piped up and asked, “What’s wrong with Justin?”

The only thing worse than standing in the crossfire and suffering through Brian and Mel’s fight was having it stop. As the fight screeched to a halt, _everyone_ turned to look at him. Mel and Linds instantly launched into worrying mode and started questioning him: “Are you okay?”; “You’re all pale, honey…”; “What’s the matter, sweetie?” Fortunately, Brian cut their interrogation short… unfortunately, he did so by snarling furiously, “Leave him the fuck alone!”

People yelling. Sirens blaring. Car tires screeching. Doors slamming. In his loathsomely fragile state of mind, Justin can’t deal with any of it. Not even from Brian, not even when he’s directing it at other people.

“I need some air,” he murmured. What a pitiful lie - _yes,_ it felt like his lungs were collapsing, but he then went and took refuge in the _bathroom,_ of all places. There’s little air in here. Luckily, there is total silence. Dead air. There’s dead air, cool tiles, and space. That’s the best that Justin can hope for at present.

He stretches his hands up and flexes them, then raises his arms above his head and rests his interconnected fingers atop the tiles. He has many a fond memory of these tiles: how much he and Brian loved them when they first saw this apartment - they were all glossy and gleaming, sparkling white, and a huge improvement on the shabby, yellowing linoleum back at the place Justin had been renting; how he and Brian have fucked on these tiles in every possible position and probably across the entire surface area over the eleven years they’ve been living here; how he and Daphne collapsed atop them after a drunken night years ago - they lay here, their foreheads pressed together, laughing and whispering drunkenly. He also remembers Gus slipping on the tiles years back, when he was about six, and bawling hysterically from the shock. Justin gathered him up and checked him for injuries, but there were none so he simply hugged and kissed the kid back to health.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Justin sits up and then pulls himself to his feet. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

As soon as he hears Brian’s voice, Justin feels a sweeping sense of relief. He goes to open the door and lets Brian in.

“I’m sorry I bailed,” Justin says. He leans against the counter and folds his arms over his chest. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I yelled.” Brian steps closer to him, tentatively, and reaches his hand up slowly. Justin feels a swell of appreciation for how careful Brian is being; not everyone knows to be that way around him at times like this. He offers Brian a smile, as if to say _yes, please,_ and Brian closes the distance between them and kisses him. It’s the lightest touching of their lips; Justin feels his heart sing at the tenderness of it. When Brian pulls away, Justin unfolds his arms and takes Brian’s hands in his. Much like he was comforted by the coolness of the tiles, he’s glad for the warmth of Brian’s hands.

“We can’t figure out what the fuck is wrong with him,” Brian says, his voice uneven. “He’s locked in his room, he won’t come out, he just keeps insisting that he’s never going back to Toronto.”

“Are the girls okay?”

Brian shakes his head. “Lindsay is still trying to talk to him - she’s fucking terrified. J.R. started crying and freaking out so Mel took her for a walk. We don’t know what to do.”

Justin squeezes Brian’s hands, then raises them to his lips and kisses each of them: he starts with by brushing his lips over Brian’s inner wrists, then dots small kisses over his knuckles and palms. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, well… that’s the thing.” Brian frowns and admits with a trace of guilt, “He said he’d talk to you.”

“Me?” Justin is honestly baffled. “Why me?”

Brian laughs a little, as though the answer ought to be obvious, and suggests, “Because you’re his favourite?”

“You’re his favourite,” Justin argues. “And I’m a fucking mess. What good could I possibly do? I’m a mental case who can’t deal with loud noises or crowds. Even worse - I’m a _New Yorker_ who can’t deal with those things. That is so fucked up.”

With a soft sigh, Brian stares at Justin and warns gently, “Don’t beat yourself up like that.”

Easily said, not so easily done. Justin may not be able to cope with basic human activities like travelling via the subway or walking down the street, but he’s oh-so-talented at beating himself up. It’s actually quite tempting at times like these. At his worst moments, he can even understand why Hobbs came after him. Sometimes, Justin wishes he could strike himself with a bat.

_What a fucked up thing to think! This is exactly why you shouldn’t be around Gus._

Justin cringes inwardly as his self-loathing escalates. He wishes he could get the fuck out of his own head, if only for half a fucking second. Even half a second would be a generous reprieve. 

Either way, the truth is this: “I can’t help him.”

Justin winces as he says it. He sees the disappointment on Brian’s face and he feels it deep within himself. _You’re Gus’ father, for fucks sake. Fucking pull yourself together._

But he doesn’t feel capable of pulling himself together. Justin feels utterly scattered. It’s as though someone has picked up a box of puzzle pieces and thrown it into the wind. Maybe it’s possible for the puzzle to be reassembled _(maybe it isn’t)_ , but it’s going to be a time-consuming process. There’s no way he can piece himself back together in time to be the father Gus deserves.

Miserably, Justin confesses, “I can’t even help myself.”

“Justin,” Brian says, with desperation bleeding into his tone, “Please. All the kid has said for the past two hours is ‘I don’t want to talk to you’, ‘I’ve made up my mind’, ‘leave me alone’ - until _finally,_ he comes up with, ‘I don’t want to talk to any of you, except maybe Justin’. You’re our way in. You’re the best chance we have at figuring this thing out.”

He leans in and kisses Justin’s cheek - another simple, gentle brush of his lips that infuses Justin with hope. Brian then presses his cheek to Justin’s and whispers in his ear, “Please. I need for him to be okay.”

It’s a request that Justin can’t possibly refuse. Though he still lacks faith in himself, he manages to scrape together enough willpower to commit to this. It’s Brian, after all, and it’s their son. Justin can’t fathom failing them.

He pulls back and looks into Brian’s eyes, then nods and agrees, “Okay. I’ll do it.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Gus?” Justin knocks on the door gently. He doesn’t much like his chances, but he calls out, “Can you let me in?”

From a little way down the hallway, Brian and Linds are watching him intently. He gives them both a look and shoos them away. They glance at each other worriedly, then retreat into the kitchen together. Just in time, too, because suddenly the lock clicks and Gus opens the door a fraction.

Justin’s heart jolts when he sees Gus peering through the crack with red, puffy eyes. The kid swallows and says quietly, “Hey, Jus.”

“Hey,” Justin says. “How are you feeling?”

Gus shrugs and stares at the floor. His long lashes are damp and clumped together. With a shaky sigh, he admits, “Not so great.”

Since that’s all the insight Gus seems willing to offer, Justin decides not to push him. He tries to smile as he suggests, “Well, how about we take a walk? Just us two. Let’s get out of here for a while.”

Then, as an extra incentive, he offers, “Hey, maybe we could go and see a movie.”

“Really?” Gus brightens momentarily, then he scowls and queries suspiciously, “I’m not in trouble?”

Justin eyeballs him and challenges, _“Should_ you be in trouble?”

“No,” Gus says forcefully. Then he softens and repeats, “No.”

“Well,” Justin resolves, offering Gus a smile, “Then I don’t see why we can’t have a fun night out. C’mon.”

*

As soon as they’re outside, Gus’ demeanour brightens considerably. He links his arm through Justin’s and leads them down the street… directly towards the subway.

It’s right on the cusp of peak hour. Justin envisages what it will be like down there: people crowding the platforms, no space to move, little air to breathe… everyone battling to board the next train, shoving and squishing together into the confined compartment. He can already see a stream of people heading down the stairwell into the station. He imagines being in the midst of all that: all those people, all that pushing and rushing…

His throat constricts painfully. His vision smears. For a few seconds, Justin is robbed of breath and vision. The only thing that wrenches him free from the oncoming panic attack is a looming sense of guilt. _You’re supposed to be looking after Gus. Fucking pull yourself together._

“Jus?” Gus steps back and surveys him worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Justin lies.

Gus doesn’t buy it. He gazes at Justin thoughtfully, then links their arms together again and suggests, “Let’s walk instead.”

“It’s okay, we can-”

“Let’s walk.”

There’s a strong sense of finality in Gus’ tone. Justin can’t help but smile - he’s instantly reminded of Brian. It’s ever so endearing.

What’s even more endearing is how Gus cunningly weaves them through the streets, choosing ones that are less crowded. It’s such a kind gesture, one which Justin is deeply grateful for. He’s also relieved to realise that he doesn’t mind being close to Gus. The hugs and kisses from Mel and Linds earlier felt intrusive and threatening; the same can be said for most physical contact. At times like these, Justin simply can’t stand it. Fortunately, Gus’ touch doesn’t bother him. There’s actually a good amount of comfort to be found there. Justin links their arms a little tighter and they exchange a smile. Immediately, Justin’s spirits begin to lift. He endeavours to keep that going by focusing on the positives: Gus’ companionship, the gorgeous summery afternoon, the lovely warm breeze that follows them as they traverse the streets.

As they head up Sullivan Street, Gus tugs on Justin’s arm gently and says, “It’s the crowds, huh?”

“Hmm?”

“I overheard you and Dad talking about it once. You’re not so good with crowds.”

“You ‘overheard’ us, huh?” Justin bumps Gus lightly. “Bullshit, you were eavesdropping.”

“Maybe.” Gus smirks and steers them onto West 3rd. He grows solemn as he asks, “Is it because of what that guy did to you?”

This isn’t a conversation that Justin really wants to have, but he feels beholden to Gus. If there’s one thing that Gus truly values, it’s honesty. So Justin steels himself and admits, “That, and what happened at Babylon. I had a thing about crowds after the bashing. Babylon made it ten times worse.”

He considers both events momentarily and cringes: both were so long ago. _Why are you still letting that shit get to you?_

God, is that a landmine of a question. Justin has asked himself that repeatedly over the years. During bad patches like the one he’s experiencing now, that question is only ever incendiary. It leads to him fighting with himself at length, battling and debating over whether he has a right to still be affected by those traumatic events or whether it’s well and truly time to get the fuck over it.

Luckily, Gus isn’t at all conflicted. He nods sympathetically and says, “That’s understandable.”

Though he isn’t totally convinced, Justin forces himself to nod and agree, “I guess.”

Gus nudges Justin affectionately. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Justin nudges him back. “Thanks, Gussy.”

*

When they reach the cinema, it’s bustling with activity. There is a curling queue of customers waiting to purchase tickets and hoards more travelling up the escalators towards the theatres. Gus stops and pulls Justin into an alcove, instructing, “You wait here, I’ll go get the tickets.”

Justin smiles at him gratefully and leans against the wall to wait. Gus starts to bound off to get in the queue, but then he pulls a sharp U-turn and returns to Justin with a suspiciously sweet smile. He holds out his hand and requests, “Money, please?”

“Of course.” Justin laughs and rolls his eyes. “What else?”

“You’re a famous _artiste_ with a mega-rich husband,” Gus snarks. “I’m a poor, unemployed schoolboy. Hand over the Amex.”

Justin snorts and grabs his wallet. He hands over the credit card and chuckles as Gus prances off happily. Then, once he’s alone (or at least as alone as one can be in a packed space like this), he returns to leaning against the wall. He focuses on the row of twinkling lights bordering the ticket booths and watches them flash on, off, on, off.

When he finally looks away, he feels considerably calmer. The crowd seems to have thinned; Gus has gone from standing at the end of the huge queue to being right at the front, with only a few other customers lingering behind him. Justin heads over and stands a little closer. As he waits for Gus, he tunes into the conversation Gus is having with the guy behind the counter.

As he leans across the counter, Gus asks curiously, “What’s, like, your _least_ popular movie?”

The guy frowns at Gus. With a furrowed brow, he queries, “Our… _least_ popular movie?”

“Like, it seems pretty busy here tonight. Are there any movies that won’t be so packed?”

“Oh.” The guy shrugs and checks something on the screen in front of him. “Uh, we’ve been replaying all the Bond flicks. They’re normally pretty popular but not tonight. It’s opening weekend, y’know? Skyfall is playing soon in Cinema 7. It’s basically empty.”

Gus smiles and hands over the Amex. “I’ll take two to Skyfall.”

“Cool. Two to Skyfall, coming right up.”

Justin feels a big burst of appreciation. He’s always had Gus pinned as a great kid with a heart of gold, but this level of thoughtfulness and compassion is unprecedented. As Gus walks over, tickets in hand, Justin grins at him and praises cloyingly, “You’re such a sweetheart!”

Gus blushes and scowls at Justin. “Am not.”

“Ugh, you sound just like Brian.” Justin laughs and pinches Gus’ cheek. “It’s so cute!”

“Cut it out,” Gus protests in a sullen mumble, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Justin wraps an arm around Gus’ shoulders and they head towards the escalators. With a knowing grin, Justin says, “So… candy? Popcorn?”

“Yes and yes.” Gus nods vigorously. With a dangerous gleam in his eyes, he continues excitedly, “And hot dogs, and sodas, and cotton candy…”

“Mmm.” Justin beams approvingly. His spirits are well and truly lifted. “Sounds good, Gussy.”

*

Once they’ve loaded up on a feast of treats to see them through the movie, they head into the cinema and find it all but deserted. There’s only a handful of other people dotted around the expansive space. Gus leads them right to the back row and collapses happily into one of the seats. He dumps his armfuls of food on the seat to his left and then pats the seat to his right. Justin takes it and sets his own heaping of snacks down.

“Justin,” Gus warns, quite sternly, “I have something to say.”

Justin is pretty sure he knows what this will be about. He tries to hide his grin, but he can’t help it - one breaks out on his face anyway. “Yes, Gussy?”

Gus fixes him with the scowl to end all scowls and lectures, “Just because I’m seeing this movie with you doesn’t mean that I want to hear your disgusting thoughts about Daniel Craig, okay? I _will_ walk out of this cinema.”

“What disgusting thoughts?” Justin smiles innocently. “You mean how he’s a rare example of a man that your father and I can actually agree is extremely fuckable?”

“Ugh!” Gus shudders and slumps down in his seat. His trademark scowl intensifies as he laments, “You two are the worst!”

Justin smirks and grabs a handful of popcorn. Gus huffs and digs into his M&Ms whilst muttering about being ‘scarred for life’ and how Daniel Craig has been ‘forever ruined’. But as the trailers start playing, Gus shuffles over and rests his head on Justin’s shoulder. It takes Justin by surprise; it reminds him of when Gus was much, much smaller. He was always such an affectionate child - since Gus hit his teens, that has faded somewhat and has been replaced by an awkward standoffishness. Still, there are rare exceptions when Gus acts like the loving, cuddly child he once was; this is one of those moments. Justin leans into Gus and kisses the top of his head. He’s pleased when he catches a small smile forming on Gus’ face. Justin turns his attention to the trailers and focuses on enjoying this moment.

It’s the best he’s felt all week.


	4. Chapter 4

“Can I get you boys anything else?”

The waitress smiles at them tiredly whilst passing her notepad from hand to hand - perhaps in an attempt to keep alert at this late hour. Midnight is approaching and the diner that Justin and Gus have been holed up in for hours is finally slowing down. The dinner rush is well and truly over… at least, for most people it is. 

“Yes, please,” Gus says, grabbing the menu eagerly. He eyes it with obvious hunger and then grins at Justin. “More nachos?”

Justin saw that coming. Gus’ appetite is notoriously unstoppable. After shooting Gus a grin, Justin nods at the waitress and confirms, “More nachos, thanks.”

“Coming right up.” 

“Yes!” Gus drums his hands on the table excitedly. “You’re the best, Jus.”

“Yeah, let’s see if you still feel that way tomorrow.”

“What’s happening tomorrow?”

“I’m taking you to the doctor to get checked. Either you have hollow legs or you have a tapeworm.”

Gus smirks and taunts, “We should get the waitress’ eyes checked. She just called a _thirty-four year old_   a ‘boy’.”

“Watch it,” Justin warns with a small burst of laughter. He can never resist Gus’ fond teasing.

As Gus snickers evilly, his phone starts beeping and vibrating. Justin watches curiously as Gus picks it up, frowns at it, then shoves it as far away as possible, so that it’s banished amongst the line-up of condiments.

Justin raises his eyebrows at Gus and asks, “What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” Gus mutters darkly. He grabs his soda and takes a big glug of it. “No-thing.”

“Really? Let’s see-” Justin reaches for the phone but Gus grabs at it frantically and shoves it deep into the left pocket of his hoodie.

“It’s nothing,” Gus insists, but it’s a pathetic attempt at a lie. There’s obvious panic in his eyes and his cheeks are growing red. Justin is amazed – he’s never seen Gus look so guilty in all his life.

_What the hell is this all about?_

As Justin tries to sort through his confusion, Gus slides down in his seat and stares out the window miserably. That’s certainly something Justin can identify with – he’s felt as dejected as Gus looks all week long. What has helped the most during this rough patch has been Brian’s support. He has been infinitely understanding, supportive, and comforting. Justin senses that Gus needs the same kind of tender treatment. Perhaps in emulating Brian, he’ll be able to get through to Gus.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Justin offers Gus a small smile. “I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Gus mumbles.

“So how about you tell me what’s going on?”

Gus sighs and closes his eyes momentarily. The lively kid who has been scarfing nachos and pizza all night disappears before Justin’s eyes; in his place is someone fragile and fearful. Justin isn’t accustomed to seeing Gus look so vulnerable. It makes Gus seem so much younger, while Justin suddenly feels so much older.

“Here.” Gus grimaces and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He slides it across the table to Justin. “Have at it.”

As Justin grabs the phone, the waitress arrives with their third order of nachos and a pitcher of soda. She stifles a yawn as she sets the plate down and then refills their glasses. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks,” Gus says softly. The instant she’s gone, he grabs the nachos and digs into them.

Justin stares down at the phone. His heart begins to sink as he reads the message from Ruby: 

_this isnt fair. u cant just abandon me. i didnt mean for any of this to happen!!! please dont hate me. ur my only friend._

He’s about to unleash an avalanche of questions on Gus, but then Gus says (through a huge mouthful of nachos), “The passcode is 5297.”

Justin swipes the screen and types it in. As soon as it’s unlocked, a flood of messages from Ruby appear. Gus hasn’t replied to any of them. Just scanning the messages makes Justin hurt for Ruby.

_im so sorry, u have to forgive me._

_please gus, it was a stupid mistake!_

_dont move to ny. idk what id do without u._

_im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry_

_please forgive me_

_please_

_please?_

_??????????????????_

Reading through Ruby’s desperate texts leaves Justin bewildered. He scrolls right up, trying to find any communication from Gus whatsoever. It seems to take forever – for the past five days, Ruby has sent hundreds of texts, all of them unanswered. Then, finally, there’s one from Gus:

 **I trusted you more than anybody ever and you let me down. This is all your fault, ALL of it. I hate you. I.HATE.YOU.**  
**But that doesn’t even matter because I’m out of your life permanently. When I go to NY on Saturday it’s for good.**  
**Now stop fucking texting me, I never want to hear from you EVER again. You're dead to me.**

Justin glances up and finds Gus staring at him. There’s a funny sort of expression on Gus’ face; Justin doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t know what to make of any of this.

“Open the other texts,” Gus prompts with a moody scowl. “Um… but be prepared.”

With a painful flash of concern, Justin wonders: _Prepared for what, exactly?_

He does as Gus says and finds a bunch of texts from unknown numbers. Some were received only hours ago. As far as Justin can tell, they started on Monday. He opens up the messages from one of the unknown numbers and starts to read through them.

Doing so makes bile rise to the back of his throat.

we know wat u r

we always knew u were a freak lol

seriously get the fuck ovr urself & pick a side already

did ur fag parents do this to u?

someone shouldve called cccp on ur parents, it mightve saved u

freak

freak

freak

get help

for real u need help

do ur parents know? 

bet they will hate u. at least they knew how 2 pick a side.

freakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreak

ur so full of shit stop looking for attention & admit wat u r

fag freak

fckn psycho fag

we want u gone

The last one lands like a punch to the gut. Justin snaps out of his stupor and cries, “Who the fuck are these assholes?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gus says, sounding strangely calm. “I’m never going to see them again.”

Justin ignores him momentarily in favour of screenshotting the gruesome collection of texts and forwarding them to his phone. Once that’s sorted, he looks up at Gus and asserts, “That’s not a solution. You can’t just run away from this. You shouldn’t have to!”

“I know.” Gus shrugs. “But I’m going to anyway. Fuck those guys. Fuck Toronto. I’ll be happier here with you and Dad.”

“Gus,” Justin says, “You know we love having you here. We can’t wait for you to move here when it’s time for college. But the deal was-”

“Fuck the deal!” Gus shoots forward in his seat and glares at Justin. “Who the fuck even came up with it in the first place? Maybe when I was little, maybe then it was okay for you all to make up the rules. But I’m not a little kid anymore! If I’m old enough to get called a ‘fucking psycho fag’, I’m old enough to choose where I live. I want to be with you and Dad. End of discussion.”

“No, _not_ ‘end of discussion’. Not even close.” Justin meets Gus’ furious gaze evenly. “Look, I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of this kind of shit. You can’t just-”

He’s abruptly cut off by Gus hissing, “I’m not like you! I’m not like Dad, either! I can’t just stand up to these assholes! The two of you act like it’s so fucking simple – be loud and proud, stand up for yourself, blah, blah, _blah._ It doesn’t work that way! Not for me! It didn’t even work for _you –_ it got you bashed!”

 _It got you bashed._ Those words echo in Justin’s head, revolving around and around, until their repetition is agonising. He loses all sense of decorum and snaps at Gus, “Don’t you _ever_ throw that in my face. _Ever.”_

Gus recoils. His face grows pale. He blinks at Justin and then sinks back into his seat. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Justin wants to tell him it’s fine, but it isn’t. So instead, he orders, “Explain this thing to me from the very beginning.”

Gus sighs and slumps forward onto the table. He folds his arms and rests his head on them, then explains it all in a morose mumble. Apparently, it all began when Ruby’s phone was stolen. A group of boys in their grade have been ‘pranking’ everyone by taking their phones and searching through them for scandalous information. Before Ruby’s phone was taken, the discoveries were relatively harmless: Meghan’s parents were both having affairs, Janey had two secret long-distance boyfriends, Alec’s stomach was pumped after his older brother’s graduation party. Gus shrugs all of this off as “stupid, meaningless shit”, but says that he and Ruby talked about it and were freaked out by the ‘trend’. They swore to protect each other no matter what. Gus wiped his phone clean. Ruby merely claimed to. When her phone was stolen, the culprits found all of Gus’ texts. Immediately, they pounced.

“They started harassing me non-stop,” Gus mutters. “And it’s all Ruby’s fault! If she’d just deleted everything like I told her to, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Justin flicks back through the texts from Ruby and cringes. He feels for the poor girl – every last one of her texts is slathered with regret. He hands the phone back to Gus and asks, “Do you really hate her?”

Gus glances at the phone and frowns. “I hate that she did this to me. She basically outed me. I don’t wanna be out, not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because my school is full of homophobic assholes? Who don’t even believe bisexuality is a thing? Who think it’s totally okay to call me a ‘freak’ and a ‘fag’ three hundred times in the space of a week?”

“Did you consider telling anyone? Like a teacher? Like us?”

“It’s not that simple.” Gus closes his eyes again and sighs long and slow. “Like I already told you, I’m not the same as you and Dad. It’s not like I’m ashamed or anything – I’m proud, I just don’t wanna be loud about it. I don’t want people at school knowing my business. I don’t want _anyone_ knowing my business. Do you know how fucking sick I am of being interrogated? Every time we visit Pittsburgh, I get asked a million questions that make me feel like throwing up. Guess fucking what? I don’t want the family knowing what my preferences are. I don’t want anyone knowing whether I’m a virgin or not. That stuff is private. I just want everyone to leave me _be,_ and let me exist on my own terms.”

“Okay,” Justin says. He’s at a loss as to what else to say – Gus’ rant has thrown him. He tries to gather his thoughts as best he can, and then adds, “Don’t worry about the family. I’ll handle them. You don’t have to tell them shit.”

“I’m not gonna,” Gus retorts sulkily. “They’re just gonna have to fucking deal with the fact that just because I’m Brian Kinney’s son, it _doesn’t_ mean I’m Brian Kinney. At least, you know… not in _that_   way. Ugh.”

“Fair enough.” Justin nudges Gus’ foot with his and gently prompts, “So… what about Ruby?”

Gus sneers. “What about her?”

“She’s been your best friend for ten years, Gussy.”

“So what?”

“So I know how much she means to you. I know how much you mean to her.” Justin pauses – something has just occurred to him. “Maybe that’s why she didn’t delete the texts. Maybe she felt like she needed to hold onto them.”

Gus lifts his head and peers at Justin warily. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, she knew you’d be going away for the summer,” Justin muses. “Maybe she wanted to keep them as a memento. You know, something to look at when she’s missing you.”

“I guess that kind of makes sense.” Gus frowns, then admits sadly, “Actually, that sounds a lot like Ru.”

Justin taps Gus’ phone, which is lying between them, and says gently, “It really seems like she’s sorry.”

“I know.” Gus’ voice is growing smaller. He blinks and mumbles into his arm, “But I don’t know how to fix it. I told her I hate her. I told her she’s dead to me. We’re all each other has but now we’ve messed up everything-”

“It’s never too late.” Justin pushes Gus’ phone towards him. “The two of you can fix this. I know you can.”

Gus stares at his phone with damp eyes. He blinks again, keeping the tears at bay, then grabs his phone and shoves it in his pocket. 

“Not now,” he says very quietly. “Later.”

“Later is good,” Justin agrees. “Like how later, I’m going to email your spineless wimp of a principal and have him investigate this bullshit.”

“Jus, please-”

“Gus, seriously. This is bullying. It’s harassment. Plus, they’re _stealing phones?_ That’s not a ‘trend’ or a ‘prank’, it’s a fucking crime. And your school needs to step up and deal with this shit. You’re not going to change my mind about this.”

Gus huffs and rolls his eyes. “You’re such a _dad.”_

Smiling, Justin concedes, “Yeah, I am.”

Gus snorts. Justin eyes him carefully – it’s hard to get a good read on Gus at the best of times, but right now it’s damn near impossible. So Justin simply has to come right out and ask, “Are you alright? Please be honest with me – I need to know.”

For a little while, there’s no response. Gus returns to staring out the window, this time with a perfectly blank expression. Justin is honestly mystified. He _thinks_ he knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to assume. That wouldn’t be fair.

When Gus finally does respond, his answer comes crashing down on Justin.

“I’m not,” he says sadly, “But neither are you.”

There is a fragment of a second where Justin wants to cry. He feels panic approaching. It starts to cut into him and very nearly does some damage, but then he pulls back and stops it from getting to him.

Unfortunately, Gus has already noticed. He stares at Justin with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “You’re not okay, are you?”

“No,” Justin forces himself to admit, “I’m not.”

Worry crumples Gus’ features. His voice sounds a little broken as he asks, “Why not?”

“Because…” Justin almost laughs. There’s some twisted humour to be found in this, if only he looks closely enough. But just as the laughter rises up, it catches in his throat and dies out. “Because this is the way things are. This is how they’ve been since the bashing. Since Babylon. I’ve gotten better over the years, but sometimes I go through these periods where… where everything seems dark and where I struggle to keep going.”

Now that he’s gotten started, it’s surprisingly hard to stop. So on Justin goes, confessing all to Gus. He tells him about his years in therapy, about how his trauma manifests, about how it’s a lifelong thing that he won’t ever be fully rid of. He promises Gus that he’s trying, that he’ll _keep_ trying, that he’s determined to continue improving and healing and moving forward. He goes on at length about Brian and Daphne: how they support him, how they love him, how they make him feel like less of a freak.

“They’re there for me when I can’t be there for me,” Justin explains. He forces a smile. “That’s the hardest part. When I get like this, I feel insanely helpless. I hate it. I hate feeling weak. I can’t stand it.”

“You’re not, though.” Gus sits up straight and gazes at Justin earnestly. “You’re not weak. You… you and Dad… you’re both so strong. I wish I could be that way.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Justin says. He shrugs at Gus and admits, “Normally, I do see myself that way. But then this… _thing…_ comes at me and I lose sight of that.”

“So then I’ll remind you,” Gus asserts boldly. He reaches for Justin’s hand and they link their fingers together. Gus swallows and says, “You’re… you mean a lot to me, Jus. All my life, I’ve looked up to you. I always will.”

That returns the lump to Justin’s throat. He tries to ignore it as he asks, “Really?”

“That’s why I chose you,” Gus says. He stares at Justin intently and continues, “That’s why I chose you as my dad.”

Justin thinks back to that letter, all those years ago, and how happy it made him to know that Gus thought of him as a father. The memory of that happiness rushes at him; it doesn’t quite get past the barrier of numbness that he’s been living with for the past week, but Justin remembers it vividly nonetheless. It’s enough to make the lump in his throat swell to painful proportions.

Gus’ eyes grow glossy with tears. He tries for a smile, but it wavers and falls away. In a small but sure voice, he says, “It was never about that cheesy talk moms had with me about how you were Dad’s partner and so you could also be like a father to me. It was just… you. I’d always thought of you as family. I’d always wished you could be my dad. You were this amazing person who always made me feel safe and loved, and who I looked up to so, so much. You still are that person. That’s why I chose you then, and if I could go back and do it all over again, the only thing that I’d do differently is that I’d choose you sooner.”

“Gus…” Justin sighs and opens his arms. “Come here.”

Gus shuffles around to Justin’s side of the booth. He curls up against Justin and hides his face. “I love you, Jus.”

Justin gives up on trying to hold back his tears. He buries his face in Gus’ hair and lets his tears fall. Through them, he replies, “I love you, too.”


	5. Chapter 5

As they journey home, Gus is full of questions  (as he is wont to be), the latest of which is: “So… how long do these bad patches normally last for?”

After a beat, Justin admits, “It’s hard to say.”

He knows that’s not the answer Gus is looking for, but that’s the truth of it. There is no definitive, prescriptive answer; the reality is messier than that. Sometimes it’s a few seconds and nothing more; an instant of panic, a brief spell of darkness. Over the years, Justin has figured out how to free himself from such incidences. But then there are longer stretches - days, weeks, months of struggling.

Fortunately, it hasn’t been ‘weeks’ or ‘months’ in about ten years. Justin made sure of that. He worked hard and managed to pull himself together. There have been scattered periods of bleakness in recent years, but they have only ever lasted a day or two (although, in the midst of them, it always feels so much longer). This past week has been something of an anomaly; one which has thrown Justin. He wonders how much longer it will last. Will it fade in a few days? Or will it stay with him?

“I didn’t see this coming,” he confesses guiltily. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, his former therapist’s voice sounds, urging him to cast the guilt aside. It’s misplaced and unnecessary. Justin knows that, he knows it by heart, but knowing it is one thing… putting it into practice is something else entirely.

As he and Gus walk together down Sixth Ave., Gus leans into him affectionately and asks, “Are you gonna go back to therapy?”

“Maybe.” Justin considers it for a moment, but he can’t figure out how he feels. It’s been such a long time since he saw Jo. He was convinced he was okay, that he didn’t need it anymore. Now he’s not so sure. Uneasily, he says, “I’ll see how I go.”

Gus doesn’t say anything else. He simply links his arm tighter through Justin’s and holds him close as they continue homeward.

As they do, Justin is suddenly reminded of something Brian said to him years ago: _“There are other forms of therapy.”_

He always knew what Brian meant by that; in fact, he felt great affinity with that perspective. Now, more than ever, Brian’s wise words speak to him. He focuses not on the darkness welling within him, but the comforting warmth of Gus’ embrace and their familiar surroundings as they near their street.

The city is torn between night and dawn. It’s almost 3am and the streets are strangely silent. They have passed by pockets of noise - bars and clubs closing, spilling people out onto the streets; bakeries and delis receiving early deliveries to prepare them for the day ahead; a building or two where parties are still raging tirelessly. But these seem to slip by swiftly - most of the city seems to have lapsed into a peaceful quiet.

As they round a corner, Gus signals to a 24 hour market across the street. “Can we stop here?” 

Justin glances at his watch and cringes. “It’s late, Gussy. Your moms are gonna kill me for keeping you out for so long.”

This, predictably, is met with a mischievous grin. Gus shrugs and proposes, “So we’re already in trouble… what’s another ten minutes?”

“Fair point,” Justin concedes. He leads Gus across the street and then lets him go into the market alone.

As a summery breeze whispers down the darkened street, Justin watches through the window. Gus heads for the coolers in the corner, where the icecream is kept (what else?), and peers into them whilst rifling through his pocket to retrieve a handful of bills. While he watches, Justin can’t help but marvel at how grown up Gus seems. He’s practically Brian’s height now, save an inch or two, and at this early hour he even has a light brush of stubble around his jaw. He looks so much older than sixteen, which is strange, given that at six he always looked so much younger than his age. It won’t be long now until Gus is seventeen, which is an even stranger thought. Justin doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

He glances down the street at a couple exiting a cab. As the car pulls away and rumbles off into the night, the couple cuddle together and stumble drunkenly towards the building on the corner. Justin watches the way the guy looks at the girl - there’s intense adoration in his gaze. There’s something luminous about it; so much so that it almost lights up the street. Best of all, it’s ever so familiar.

“Ready to go?” Gus appears beside Justin, carrying a bag stuffed with candy and tubs of Ben and Jerry’s.

Justin smiles at him. To his relief, he doesn’t have to force it this time - not one bit. He wraps an arm around Gus’ shoulders and says gladly, “Yeah, let’s go home.”

*

When they arrive back at the apartment, they find Mel and J.R. curled up together on the sofa. J.R. is burrowed in Mel’s arms and they’re both fast asleep. Gus tiptoes hastily past them and heads straight for his room. Justin follows, and as soon as they’re out of earshot, he urges, “Okay, off to bed with you.”

Gus turns around and frowns at him. “Uh, later. First I’ve gotta Skype with Ruby.”

“Gus, it’s three in the morning. Let her sleep.”

“She’s not asleep! She’s texted me ten times in the past hour.”

Gus waves his phone in Justin’s face pointedly. Another message from Ruby is lit up on the screen:

_please talk to me :( this is killing me_

It makes Justin’s chest ache. He adores Ruby almost as much as he adores Gus - he can’t stand to see either one of them hurting. So he relents and agrees, “Okay, but don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t,” Gus says whilst smiling innocently at Justin. “Thanks, Jus.”

Justin smiles back and promises sincerely, “Any time.” 

Since Gus has his arms wrapped around his bag of sweets, they don’t hug. In lieu, Justin reaches out and touches Gus’ shoulder. “Go easy on the icecream, okay?”

Gus rolls his eyes and gripes exasperatedly, “But I’m _hungry.”_

“I really don’t know how,” Justin teases. Gus huffs and disappears into his bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Justin waits for a moment in the dark hallway. Behind him are a long row of his sketches, framed pristinely; he turns and gazes at them. There’s one of Gus at age five, cuddling with Brian, and another of him at age eight, perched on Brian’s shoulders. Justin smiles at the sight of them. He feels his smile grow as he faintly hears Gus say, “Hey, Ru. Can we talk?”

With a sense of reassurance, Justin leaves them to it and heads towards the bedroom. He opens the door gently and slips inside, where he discovers Brian and Linds. They’re curled up together on the bed and it’s clear they haven’t slept a wink. They both sit up and look at Justin anxiously.

“Is he okay?” Linds asks. Her hands are knotted together and her face is lined with worry.

“He’s okay,” Justin confirms. Both Brian and Linds visibly relax. “He’s gone to… bed. We agreed he’d talk to all of us about it in the morning.”

Linds smiles and gets up. As she approaches, Justin feels a tug of concern; it’s obvious that she’s been crying, even though she tries to hide it as she asks, “Are Mel and J.R. still on the couch?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll go and get them to come to bed.” She touches Justin’s cheek very, very gently. “Thanks, honey.”

Justin smiles at her. “No problem.”

She glances back at Brian and smiles at him, then heads out. “Night, you two.”

Now that they’re all alone, Justin looks at Brian and offers up his most reassuring smile. His heart lifts a little as he soaks up Brian’s adoring gaze. The only thing more soothing than that gaze is the sound of Brian’s voice as he asks softly, “Coming to bed?”

“I might take a shower first,” Justin says. With a grin, he asks, “Wanna come with?”

“Sure.” Brian smirks and jumps out of bed. Together, they head into the bathroom.

As Justin is sure Brian is already aware, the purposes of absconding into the bathroom are two-fold. Firstly, Justin is genuinely craving a long, hot shower. Secondly (and arguably most importantly), there is no chance of Gus eavesdropping on their conversation if they’re in here. In all likelihood, Gus and Ruby are still in the process of making up, but Justin doesn’t want to risk it.

He gets the shower running and then starts to strip. As he peels his shirt off, Brian pins him with a look and asks urgently, “What did he say to you?”

Answering that question won’t be easy. Justin takes a moment to prepare himself; he finishes undressing and then steps into the shower and under the spray. The flow of hot water is simply divine. As he lets it wash over his face and through his hair, Brian joins him and winds an arm around his waist.

“He’s being bullied,” Justin admits. Reluctantly, he turns to face Brian. The look on his face makes Justin cringe - it’s an agonising fusion of anger and anguish.

“Who the _fuck,”_   Brian hisses, “Is bullying _my_ kid?!”

He falters, then amends hastily, “Our kid. You know what-”

“I know what you meant.” Justin slides his hands up Brian’s sides, over his shoulders, and then cradles his face in his hands. “I know it sounds awful. I want to tell you everything… but I think Gus should be the one to explain it. It’s his story to tell.”

Brian frowns, but it doesn’t last long - it vanishes within seconds. He sighs and asks, “Is he okay?”

“He’s a tough kid. He always has been.” Justin kisses Brian gently and promises, “He’ll get through this.”

Brian gives a small, stiff nod. Justin turns them around and guides Brian under the spray. He grabs the soap and starts smoothing it over Brian’s chest in tender circles.

Most curiously, Brian queries, “Is he still insisting on moving here?”

With a resigned shrug, Justin replies, “I think he may have reverted to the original plan.”

“Oh.”

Brian’s disappointment is transparent. Justin can sympathise - lately, more than ever, they’ve both been longing for the day that Gus makes the move to New York. Unfortunately, there’s still some time before that comes to be. Justin rustles up a smile for Brian and kisses his cheek. “It won’t be long now.”

For some time, they enjoy the shower amidst peaceful silence. When at last it’s broken, it’s by Justin as he says, “You know what I was thinking earlier?”

Brian nuzzles his neck and murmurs, “What?”

Justin thinks back to that moment earlier, standing outside the market, and the few seconds that spanned between looking in at an almost seventeen-year-old Gus and glimpsing that couple arriving home together. He smiles to himself and then muses, “We’ve been together for almost half of my life.”

“That must have been a sobering thought,” Brian drawls.

“Kinda,” Justin chuckles. “But only because I can’t believe it’s been almost seventeen years. It seems like such a long time.”

“Yeah.” Brian grins and teases, “Our relationship is almost ready to sneak out into the night and go trawling for cock.”

Justin bursts out laughing. It’s quickly stifled as Brian steals a kiss from him, then another, and another. Then as Brian slides his hands up to cradle Justin’s neck, he gazes at Justin with a delightful blend of fondness and intrigue, and comments, “You look better, Sunshine.”

“I feel it,” Justin says. He smiles and kisses Brian’s chin. “I have you and Gus to thank for that.”

His heart lifts even higher as Brian’s face lights up with untold affection. It lifts higher still when Brian leans in close and steals yet another kiss. Justin forgets the darkness that has been consuming him and focuses on all that exists right here. He laughs a little as Brian scoops him up and presses him against the wall. The tiles are cool and slick against his back, while Brian’s chest is warm and solid against his. Justin tunes into the rhythm of Brian’s heart; the eager, excited beat of it. He can feel his own heart beating right back, thumping energetically, a thrilling rhythm.

That’s all there is for now. That’s all there needs to be.

Everything else can wait.

**The End**


End file.
